


Weeds and Bickering are All a Friendship Needs

by Ranowa



Series: Harry Potter AU [5]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hogwarts First Year, Parental Roy Mustang, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-05 21:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17333123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranowa/pseuds/Ranowa
Summary: Professer Mustang and Professor Hughes have a plan:Get Edward Elric and Alphonse Elric some friends.It goes about as oddly as one might expect.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a roll this week, aren't I? :D
> 
> Let's have some more fluff, although this one with a little dose of angst! A quick, actually somewhat brief threeshot for Ed's first year at Hogwarts. I'll update every three days, so I'll be back with chapter 2 on Wednesday!
> 
> And, as usual, content that hasn't been written yet, but is relevant here: Ed and Al's history before coming to Hogwarts isn't pleasant. Al has a pretty severe anxiety disorder of some kind after an extremely traumatic event, that Ed's found some guilt issues of his own for because he wasn't able to save him. Hence why the boys might seem a little off from their canon selves in this fic. Don't worry; it shall all be revealed fully in time!
> 
> Enjoy!

“Wait, did you check the definition on page 204?”

“Yeah, yeah, I did, Brother, but this one here seems way more accurate...”

“But that part about how the soul stays anchored is only mentioned in the next chapter on!”

“But the prompt wasn’t to go in detail about. It was just to discuss how the classification of a being as Living Dead isn’t actually a paradox, Brother.”

“I-... well... yeah, but, this answer’s way cooler...”

“ _Brother.”_

Roy smiled fondly, marking a correction on the next line on the essay before him, and found himself relieved that his back was turned, so he wouldn’t have to hide the smile from the boys.

He’d asked for a simple essay on definition of Living Dead just to get his first years thinking about the topic, to serve as a nice introduction into his vampire unit next week. Somehow, he got the feeling Ed was going to hand in a ten page, seventh-year level analysis on the mechanics of a soul in undead creatures- and with a more put together argument than his most advanced class could handle.

That boy was going to sleep through his classes for the next six years and probably still graduate with the highest N.E.W.T.s in history, he thought mournfully.

It was one of the reasons he allowed Ed and Al to work together like this, even though it was technically considered cheating. At first, he’d tried to remind Ed that it really wasn’t the best idea to work so openly with his brother like this when they practically lived with their professor- but it had quickly become apparent that Ed really didn’t need to cheat. And neither did Al, actually, despite the fact that the child was not yet attending classes. _Quite_ the contrary. He was pretty sure Al could already crush the theoretical exams just as handily as Ed was, and really didn’t even want to think what would happen next year, when the kid finally got himself a wand of his own.

More to the point, when Roy had seen how much fun the two had working together like this, he just hadn’t had the heart to try and separate them.

Not that he would ever say as such out loud, of course.

However, all good things _did_ have to come to an end, and he cleared his throat just as he sensed another argument coming, marking the grade down on the paper before him with a flourish. “As much as it does a teacher’s heart good to see you two so passionate about your... er, Ed’s assignment...” he announced, turning around in his seat, “it’s almost midnight. And that paper isn’t even due until next _Tuesday_. Off to bed, you two.”

The pouts he got were very nearly heartbreaking. Merlin's sake, it should have been _illegal,_ the way they were looking at him now.

“But...” Al lifted one of the thick books up off the floor, his eyes big and wide and long-suffering like he’d just been asked to submit to torture. “But, Professor, we only just started!”

Ed frowned where he lay, sprawled on his stomach just like his brother, legs in the air and splattered with ink. This pout, too, was criminal in its cuteness. God, he really hadn’t signed up for this. “Yeah, Mustang, how come we have to go to bed if you’re not? Why do you get to stay up past midnight but we don’t?”

He rolled his eyes, again making a shooing motion with his hand. “Because I’m not a growing boy anymore, and yet you two are. Or, Al is. I’m not so sure you’ll ever actually grow, if you don’t start drinking your milk, Ed.”

Cute pout, on cue, transformed, Ed’s eyes widening as he was overtaken with red-faced, spluttering rage. In an instant he was on his feet, waving his fists in the air as he launched forward, and Roy had to muffle his snicker as he watched Al give only a half-hearted tug at his brother’s ankle, trying to stop the crazy midget from attacking him with no success. “ _Who are you calling so short-“_

“To _bed_ ,” he interrupted, grinning again. “Come on.” He stepped carefully over the mess of books on the floor, knowing Al would clean them up later, and gestured for Ed to follow him, heading towards the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to your dormitory.”

Once again, he was ready for the pouts he got in answer, but these were less amusing than before- and instead made up the difference, in being entirely more heartbreaking. Al just looked down at the pile around him, his shoulders slumping a little but but any protests or complaints perfectly silent. He was ready and waiting to give Ed a weak smile when his brother looked back at him, putting on the very best facade that he could so as to not worry them- but Roy had learned to read the misery in those eyes, and as for Ed... well, there _was_ no fooling Ed.

Al didn't want him to go.

Roy's heart sunk.

Yeah, he already could tell how this was going to end.

“Aw, Mustang,” Ed started to beg after a moment, but again, there was a light of real need in his eyes that just hadn’t been present before. “Come on. That’s so far away from here, and like you said, it’s already so late. Can’t I just stay here again? Just for tonight?”

His heart sunk even more.

He glanced at Al. Still sitting behind Ed, still looking at the floor, shoulders still slumped. Still, the very picture of misery.

He sighed, feeling the resistance inside him deflate like Ed had just popped it like a balloon.

“Well... all right,” he conceded with a mighty sigh, still feigning reluctance. Both brothers positively _beamed,_ and it felt like his heart had been popped with a damn needle _._ “Just this once,” even though they all knew it was a lie. The beaming smile of relief he won from Al was more than reward enough, by the way it squeezed at him and made him feel almost light- the relieved gratitude in Ed’s eyes, so vivid it was almost painful, was just the cherry on top.

In short order, Roy had gotten Al scrambling off to his room. It was easy enough, now that the kid knew his brother was staying the night again, though he’d kept Ed with him, under the pretense of cleaning all the books up. He waited until he was sure Al was out of earshot to glance down at Ed, who was avoiding his eyes like he already knew what was coming, and sighed again, this time with exhaustion as he got down on his knees beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Ed.”

Ed looked away even more severely, his shoulders slumping just like Al’s had. “I know,” he mumbled, hands clenching tightly around one of the many books in his lap. "I... I _know,_ okay?"

It was hard to say whether he was more angry at Roy for pointing it out- or sad, for his brother.

Roy sighed gravely again. “What are you going to do if he doesn’t end up in your house next year?” he prodded, though he was sure Ed had already conceived of the problem himself. “You won’t be able to be with him all the time then.”

“I don’t- I mean- what am I supposed to do? I can’t just say something like that to him!” Ed growled, shaking Roy’s hand off. He started gathering the books together again, far more roughly than was really necessary and glaring hard at the floor. “Why can’t we just stay with you and Hughes like now? Why does it have to change at all next year?”

“ _Ed,”_ he chided gently again, knowing he didn’t need to go beyond that quiet rebuke. Ed was just as aware as he was that that was not a real choice. Al had to learn how to be apart from Ed- and, in some ways, Ed had to learn how to be apart from Al. They had to learn that they were now in a place where it was safe and okay for them to do that. Nothing good would come from him and Hughes continuing to enable Al’s nearly crippling inability to be without his brother... and Ed’s definitely crippling inability to let him at least try.

No matter how much he was going to hate doing it, he knew that sooner or later, he was going to have to pull those brothers apart. No matter how badly it was going to hurt him to see them miserable, Ed guiltridden and Al frightened- it had to happen. It _had_ to.

Once again, Ed just glared hard at the floor and continued to stack up the books far rougher than he needed to.

Until at last, he just stopped.

As Roy watched, his hard, angry facade began to soften, crumpling gently apart layer by layer like Roy had hit it just in its weak spot and brought it down one by one. The irascible anger that he clung to like a second skin began to slip away, melting down into a fatigued exhaustion so very beyond his years and the painfully vivid, all too color shadow of guilt. "I think it'll be easier, next year, Mustang. Really. I- I do." He pulled his knees up to his chest, books all just spilling weakly out of his hands to thump to the floor as he wrapped his arms around them instead, huddling up on the flagstones and for just a moment, as small as the kid that he was meant to be. His messy, utterly unkempt hair fell over his eyes, and Roy resisted the urge to carefully push it out of the way.

“Right now, Al's..." he went on quietly, voice dwindling and soft. "He’s just... _stuck_ here all day with nothing to do. He’s not said anything about it- he’s never complained, Al just- just wouldn’t do that- but I... think he's _scared._ I think he can’t help but worry that I’m... I don’t know, leaving him behind or something. I mean, I get to go off and do all these amazing things every day, and he just... can’t. It makes him nervous. He’s always worried I’m going to leave him for- for something- _better.”_ Ed laughed weakly, shaking his head then like the very idea of something better than his brother existing in this world was ludicrous in it’s impossibility.

Roy didn’t find it very funny. But, then, he knew Ed really didn’t, either.

It was also a fair point, and explained why Ed had been going so far out of his way to try and include Al in everything that he could. He and Hughes had _tried_ to argue, multiple times now, for an exception to made for Al, and allow him to enter Hogwarts a year early- god, if there was ever any wizard good enough to handle it, it would be one of the Elric brothers- but the headmaster had refused. The law was absolute, he’d proclaimed. Al just wasn’t allowed a wand until he was eleven, which meant, for the next nine months, Al was still just his unofficial ward, while Ed was a student, and that was final.

It wasn’t fair, not in the slightest, and Ed had taken up what was likely to become a permanent grudge against their headmaster over it, but there was just nothing Roy could do about it anymore.

“You’re sure there’s not any way he can at least go to class with me...?” Ed proposed weakly, and his voice was so unbearably hopeful it almost hurt for him to hear it. Roy glanced over to see two bright eyes watching him nervously again, anxious underneath his messy hair, his face a painful cast of already defeated hope. “I _know_ he’d feel so much better if he could. And... and so would I, really... I’d be able to look after him and make sure he was okay all of the time...”

Sighing, Roy actually did reach over this time, resting a heavy hand on top of his head and gently ruffling his hair. _And that’s part of the problem_ , he thought unhappily, but didn’t say it aloud. “You don’t have to look after him anymore. That’s what I’m here for, you know.”

But to this, Ed merely slumped into himself even further. He curled up just a little more, so much so now that his face was almost hidden in his knees, and hugged himself even tighter.

A moment later, he leaned back into Roy's hand, huddling himself up against his side and allowing him to slowly hug him, but even then, he did not un-furl.

"...but he's still mybrother," he whispered. "He's... he's still _my_ brother."

* * *

When Roy finally got a still downtrodden Ed to go to bed, it was to find Al impatiently waiting for them, already in his pajamas and frowning a little, frowning like he _knew_ something had gone on behind his backs and that he didn’t like it. But Ed was already smiling again, smiling for his sake no matter how surely hard it was for him, and without even the slightest hesitation the little wizard bounced up onto the bed beside his brother and curled around to frown up at him, calm and settled and peaceful again no matter how much tumult and pain was hidden behind his eyes, because he was back with his brother and that was all he needed.

“To work, Professor!” he proclaimed, beaming, then nudged Al. “Al, make him work. He’s _neglecting_ me. He always listens to you even when he’s ignoring me!”

Al blinked a little, then just relaxed with a soft smile, seeming to melt into the carefree aura his brother was offering to him like a balm for any wound. He nudged Ed right back, a little more gently, then curled up on his bed himself, almost like a contented cat. “Play nice, Brother... you didn’t even give him a chance, yet.”

And, there it was. The number one reason why Ed currently terrified all his teachers- but come next year, and Roy was pretty sure Al was going to be melting hearts left and right. “You, Alphonse,” he said, with a pointed glare in Ed’s direction, “are going places. Primarily because you understand the concept of politeness, and manners, and asking nicely. You, Edward, are not. Because you still think the best way to accomplish anything at all is by yelling at people.”

“Uh, yeah. Because it works on people like you, bastard.” Then he pointed again, making a great show out of getting comfortable while he did it, and looked expectantly up at him.

Roy sighed.

Unbelievable.

“Ten points from Ravenclaw,” he sighed casually, the comment almost a habit by now and returning the eye roll back full force- and then, because as rude as the child was, he was right, he _did_ still have some work to do, he then set about transfiguring Al’s desk back into a spare bed for Ed to use.

It ended up a little crooked and rickety, he thought, standing back to observe his handiwork, and- ahh. Okay, the sheets had definitely been blue in his mind, but somehow, they had ended up an eyesore of a bright yellow. ...somehow? But, he figured it was close enough for these purposes, and Ed, apparently, did too, when the kid lunged up from Al’s bed to crawl blissfully into his own without sparing the color a single scathing comment, already grabbing for his pillow.

Roy smirked at the sight. “You know, you two really should hold these late-night homework sessions with Hughes. He’s much better at transfiguration than I am,” he said, though found himself hard-pressed to actually mean it. Hughes had his own child to dote over, his own actual, flesh-and-blood child. He wasn’t about to let Hughes take Ed and Al, too- not when he was truly starting to really enjoy the sight of the two like this, just two little kids crawling into bed and bickering with each other night and day.

Ed, however, frowned at the mention of the other professor’s name, and Al’s smile slipped a little away, too. “We tried, actually,” the younger brother said, meeting his eyes unhappily. “He kicked us out. Said he was busy tonight.”

“...Busy tonight?” he murmured, brow furrowing. That didn’t sound like Hughes. Why on earth would he have kicked- oh. _Oh._ Roy’s eyes widened, and he momentarily cursed himself for being so forgetful. _Right, of course... I should’ve realized. He needs all the sleep he can get right now- he’s looked sick this whole week. “_ I- yes. There’s a- a charms thing. A charms thing coming up, that he has to prepare for. He'll be busy until... early next week, I believe,” he lied, running through the calendar in his mind. _That should be enough time..._

Regardless of whether it was or not, though, the best thing for this now was just to move on as fast as possible, because Ed and Al were already looking suspicious as it was and it was a little too late at night for Roy to be able to lie smoothly about this. “Now!” He cleared his throat brusquely, getting the two brothers to jump and look back at him. He smiled as broadly as he could, hands on his hips, and nodded down at them in a clear goodnight. “You two: go to bed, and remember, these walls are not soundproof. So if you two start trying to work again, I’ll be able to hear you.”

Ed, once again, had the gall to look innocent. He actually did try and look completely innocent, just sitting there and blinking up at him like he had no idea what he was talking about. A wide-eyed, big, fat, liar.

It took just about all of Roy's strength not to roll his eyes.

And, once again, Al was the one who won Roy’s favor, the younger brother looking properly sheepish and contrite, even adding in a guilty little apologetic wince for effect, then a soft, “Sorry, Professor,” and- oh, hell. There went his heart.

There it went, even though he already knew Al’s guilt, just as much as Ed’s innocence, was just a show put on to make him feel bad- just... there it went.

“It’s fine,” he laughed, giving in- and feeling the slightest bit pathetic. He’d already realized a long time ago those two brothers could guilt trip him into next century. It wasn’t their superior acting skills, as he was sure Ed believed, but just the fact that the two little kids could look so sad and pathetic, blinking up at him in misery like asking them to go to sleep was a cardinal sin. God, he was turning into such a sap... as usual, he blamed Hughes. “It’s fine. Just go to sleep tonight for once, would you?” He waited this time, watching as the two actually burrowed down in their beds, already curling up to be close to one another, waited until he could tell they were actually going to go to sleep this time before raising his wand again, waving the lights out. “Good night,” he said quietly into the darkness, and, with nothing more than a weak grin down at the two huddled forms, retreated.

When he heard the two start up whispering to each other not even a minute after he’d closed the door behind him, Roy just fondly rolled his eyes and kept on working.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the comments/kudos! See you for the final update on Saturday! :D

It wasn’t _fair._

It was stupid, and annoying, and sucked, and just _was not fair._

Ed picked grumpily through his breakfast, glaring hard at the food, then, like it was somehow responsible for everything that was going wrong this week, this month, in his life, ever, gave the plate a strong, annoyed poke.

The plate didn’t care. The plate couldn’t care. It was an inanimate object, without feelings, and the fact that his life was currently on a very messed up track meant nothing to it. This plate couldn’t care less about him, and the fact that he was building himself up to be the worst big brother in the world.

A moment passed in silence, and then, Ed frowned, gazing at the plate suspiciously. He gave another poke, this time more carefully than annoyed. What if it actually wasn’t inanimate, and was about to suddenly grow a face and start complaining at him to treat him more nicely? Given the way this week had gone, it really wouldn’t have surprised them- and this _was_ Hogwarts, after all. Who knew what supposedly inanimate objects weren’t so inanimate after all.

But, the plate did nothing but sit there silently like an ordinary plate was supposed to, and after several moments of staring at it suspiciously, Ed realized- rather belatedly- how much of an idiot he was.

He groaned.

This week really sucked.

Ed dropped down to pillow his head on his arms, though still made a disinterested grab for his breakfast, trying to remind himself that Al would nag him if he didn’t. Except, that was the problem, really. Al wasn’t here.

Al didn’t usually eat here with him. He didn’t like the crowds, and didn’t like even more the way people would stare at him whenever he made a tentative appearance, gawking like he was some kind of zoo animal. Even though Al had still braved it a few times, on days when he felt especially good, and nothing especially _bad_ had ever happened, his brother still tended to stick around Mustang’s quarters unless he really needed something. Which left Ed rather lonely for most of the day, sitting through classes that his brother wasn’t allowed to yet, _just because_ he was ten, and that-

It just really wasn’t fucking fair.

Ed sighed, nuzzling his head even more into the crook of his elbow. He couldn’t blame Al for not liking this. Hell, _he_ didn’t like it, and he was the one who had the better end of the deal. And he’d tried to help Al to feel better, he’d tried as hard as he could- but there was only so much that he could do. They could hang out together during the nights, and he could try to include Al in as much of his schoolwork as he could, but it just didn’t help either of them feel less lonely anymore.

It wasn’t that Ed regretted coming to Hogwarts with Mustang. He _didn’t._ The bastard professor agreeing to take care of them here was probably the best thing that had happened to them since Mom had died.

He just wished there was some way he could make this easier for Al.

Ed sighed again, morosely lifting up his gaze to roam around the Great Hall, letting the hundreds of conversations just wash over him as he sat there in a well of misery and boredom. Somehow, listening in on everything all the others were saying around him only made him miss Al even more. It was stupid- it wasn’t as if Al was _gone._ Hell, he was barely a floor away! He’d see him again in just a few hours!

Somehow, though, sitting here like this just made him think about his brother, sitting alone in Mustang’s office, and the fact that no matter how lonely and distressed Ed himself right now- he knew that his brother felt ten times worse.

* * *

“He looks sad.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

These words earned him both an elbow in the ribs and a frown, Maes looking at him in a way that said _Fix It._ Sighing, Roy just shot a mild glare back in his friend’s direction before reverting his attention to Ed.

 _Sad_ wasn’t exactly the world he would use to describe Ed- it was a little too helpless, a little too weak- but it was still the closest description he could think of. Sad. For the eleven year old currently sitting by himself in a crowd full of people, head on his arms, shoulders slumped, and staring with hooded eyes down at his plate, sad was probably the best word for it.

It didn’t help that, more often than not, this was the sight that greeted him whenever he saw Ed during the school day.

“Does he even have any friends?” Maes prodded again, evidently not about to let this go- Roy sighed once more. “It’s not healthy for a boy his age to always be alone like that. But I never see him talking with... well, anyone.”

Once again, Roy kept his silence for a long moment. The most blatant and honest answer was, no. He didn’t have any friends. And, no. It wasn’t normal, or healthy. Worrying about it, however, would accomplish nothing- and trying to talk to Ed about it would just provoke an argument. He already knew that one from experience. “It’s because he spends so much of his time with Al,” he said at last, purposefully vague, dodging the real answer to Maes’ question. “Usually the first-years make friends outside of class. You know, helping each other with their homework, going to Quidditch games and the like... but Ed spends nearly every moment he’s not in class with Al.”

“And Al doesn’t really leave your office,” Maes supplied heavily. There was a long, disappointed sort of sigh beside him, broken only by the almost frantic clink of silverware.

Roy nodded.

It wasn’t that Ed was unpopular, or bullied, exactly. Mostly, from what he could tell? The others just found him strange. A very strange, odd child who excelled in his coursework but talked to no one, an angry, gruff boy who almost never seemed to sleep in his dormitory, and was most often seen in the company of two professors and a silent little blond boy too young to be a fellow student. Most of the class found him exceedingly weird, but had lost interest in picking on him when they realized he just wasn’t around often enough for it to work.

Also, because picking on the adopted charge of their DADA professor was a horrible, horrible idea- a fact of life some of the more mean-spirited, violent of the students had learned quite quickly, Roy remembered with a savage glance back towards that particular gang of Slytherins.

It took perhaps three seconds for the children, currently in the process of teasing another hapless, unhappy first-year, to realize they were being stared at. As one, the entire idiot group stiffened under his dark glare- then suddenly bolted upright, as if only just remembering they had somewhere they needed to be, and made a beeline for the exit.

Roy gave a self-satisfied smirk.

A smirk that very quickly faded, however, as he transferred his gaze back to a silent, morose Ed.

“...He does know a few people,” he put forth at last, trying and probably failing to sound properly hopeful. “Russell Tringham? Remember him? Mr. Tringham talks to him.”

Maes scoffed. “Russell Tringham?” he parroted back, obviously amused. “That bratty Ravenclaw? He doesn’t talk to Ed, he tries to bother him. And he only tries to bother him because he can’t stand how aloof and indifferent he is. That doesn’t count as a friend, Roy.”

“Well, it’s _something.”_ He started tapping along his fork anxiously, racking through his mind for any way he could salvage this. “There’s... Ling Yao...”

This time, Maes actually burst out laughing. Roy groaned- he should’ve seen this coming- but just bit his tongue this time, shooting another sulky glare back in Maes’ direction as his friend continued to laugh at him. “Ling Yao! Roy, they _hate_ each other! They can not _stand_ each other! I’ve given them detention _three times_ because they ended up yelling at each other in the middle of class. Well- Ed’s yelling at him. Mr. Yao just thinks it’s funny...”

Roy continued to glare, though he did find his annoyance softening when Maes’ annoying laughter broke into a series of coughs. He nudged Maes, trying to force his friend to focus back on his own plate again, and not very subtly pushed the water pitcher at him. “If you recall...” he started quietly, waiting until Maes had gotten his breath back to go on, “that was how we became friends, yes? I thought you were insane when I first met you. And I was an anti-social brat back then, just like Ed is.”

Maes, frowning now, and still a little grey-faced, met his eyes for a moment, then just sighed. “True.” He fidgeted with his water, more playing with it than drinking it. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m worried about him, though. _And_ Al. I know taking them here like this was the best thing we could do, given the circumstances, but... god, Roy, if something doesn’t change, they’re going to wind up miserable here.”

And, as usual, Maes did have a very good point.

There was a long pause, during which Ed continued to just sit there by himself, picking at his food and looking about as lonely and neglected as a kicked puppy, and Roy found himself feeling worse and worse about the whole thing. He knew he really should try and do something about this- but his hands were tied. What was he supposed to do, start setting up playdates with Ed and his classmates? Hell, if Ed wasn’t being bullied already, that was a surefire way to start it. It didn’t help that Ed still completely failed to see the need to make friends with anyone but Al....

Damn it. Maes was right. If Ed didn’t start trying to branch out soon, he was going to end up spending seven years at this school with only his brother for a friend- and Al was going to end up spending eight years here, again, with only his brother as a friend, and probably never recovering enough to be learn to feel safe by himself again.

“Hey,” his friend suggested suddenly, leaning forward again. “Why don’t you get them to come out this weekend, watch us play Quidditch? There normally aren’t too many people there, so it should be okay for Al. But I bet you could get them to start talking to a few others if you just got them out there.”

 _Oh...?_ Startled, Roy glanced back down at Ed, trying to smother the strange, almost protective instinct inside of him that reared up at the thought. Their monthly Quidditch matches were nightmares. Actual nightmares that Ed had no business being involved in- but, then, he wouldn’t really be _involved,_ would he?Just watching. Just watching was perfectly safe. And, Maes was right; not too many students came out to watch their professors beat each other up, broomstick version, on a monthly basis. There’d be just enough that maybe, just maybe, Ed and Al might actually strike up a friendly conversation or two, but certainly not so many as to unsettle Al. Or Ed, to be fair; the little wizard was not that big a fan of crowds, either.

But, somehow, Roy got the feeling this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, when hoping to get Ed to branch out more and make a few friends. He should be doing things by _himself_ more; if Al was there, the kid would just be too focused on protecting his brother from things he didn’t need protecting from to actually relax.

Besides, Roy somehow got the feeling he was never going to be able to give Ed a lecture against fighting again, if the brat got the chance to witness just how ridiculously violent these matches got.

“I don’t know, Maes...”

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun!” The man thumped him hard on the back, hard enough he nearly spat out his bite of toast, and before Roy knew it his friend was rising to his feet, beaming out to where poor Ed, oblivious to all the scheming, sat waiting for the morning bell. “As _I_ recall, you were plenty reluctant to try Quidditch yourself, way back then. And look at you now! A raging athlete you are, and with so many _wonderful_ friends to boot.”

“...Right.” Roy glanced suspiciously at him again, and this time was entirely unsurprised to find Maes beaming still, and his eyes- dammit, his eyes had that evil glint in them that he just _knew_ was not going to end in his favor. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re just complimenting yourself and no one else.”

“Because you are a sour pessimist who insists to see the dark side of everything, that’s why.” Maes thumped him again, a hard, bruising fist between the shoulder blades, but was standing fully erect the next moment, making his exit. “Talk to Ed, Roy,” he ordered, and as tired and sick as he was this week, his eyes hard and stern in a way that he knew that if he did not, Maes would, and that was just that. “Make him realize he doesn’t have to be allergic to letting Al out of his sight. _Or_ to just sitting down and having fun like a normal teenage boy.”

Then, before Roy knew what was happening, Maes had swooped in, grabbed his plate, and walked away

“If you’re not going to eat the damn quiche, then I will!” he called back over his shoulder. Roy nearly choked on a laugh.

“Give it a few days, you ass,” he muttered, tapping the now... empty... space before him sighing mournfully. “Give a few days.” _The second you’re feeling better, you’re getting a hex for this. Or six. Just wait..._

“ _If you hex me,”_ Maes called back- out of fucking nowhere; Roy jumped- “ _you’ll be setting a bad example for Ed! Just so you know~”_

And then, like the idiot that he was, Maes stuck his tongue out of him, as criminally annoying and juvenile as all the twelve year olds they taught- and, grinning to himself all the while, he finally left. Still clutching his stupid quiche.

And, Roy now had a headache.

Fantastic.

The hand on his wand twitched, and in that moment, he imagined no less than eight curses to leave Maes Hughes down on his grinning face, spreadeagled like the idiot he was, and with the quiche properly back in his possession.

The fact that Maes was right, and it actually would set a terrible example for Ed, and he couldn’t afford to do that anymore, was... irrelevant.

Speaking of which...

“ _What did you just call me?!”_

Roy sighed, kneading two gloved fingers into the bridge of his nose. Already quite sure of just what it was that he was going to find, he looked up.

Ed had finally been provoked out of his morning porridge by- lord, there he was. Ling Yao, the little Slytherin standing back a little way's off, immeasurably proud of himself and smiling, while Ed was already up out of his seat and steaming like a baby dragon, face flushed red and hands forming little fists by his side.

_"I'm not short! I'm not a baby! I'M NOT A BABY!"_

Ling looked as if it was taking serious effort for him to not hit the floor in peals of laughter while Ed was well on his way to a tantrum, stamped feet and red face and all, and Roy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose again. Wearily, he pushed himself upright, brushing his robes down and straightening down his hair in a business-like manner, then proceeded down from the dais.

Somehow, he wasn't even surprised.

Other groups of still waking up students noticed his approach and nudged their friends, murmuring amongst themselves as they sensed a public dressing down and spectacle about to take place and shifting around to watch. Roy did his best to ignore the murmurs, instead focusing purely on the two bickering first years, and what might well have turned into a fist fight had he not been there to intervene.

_"You're the midget! You're the midget! I'll beat you up, I'm gonna- I'm g-gonna-"_

"Ahem."

Ed and Ling both jumped, the little first years spinning around to stare up at him in abrupt surprise. Ling stiffened for barely a splitsecond before a sneaky, innocent smile slipped onto his face, the boy staring up at him the picture of a well-behaved angel that made Roy want to roll his eyes skyward. Ed, on the other hand, had no such guile, and just stared up at him in a steadily escalating rage, face still scarlet and eyes still huge from the provocation, fists trembling around his wand.

No, he wasn't even surprised in the slightest.

"Mustang! Ed cried, starting to bolt forwards, "Professor- he just came over here and started-"

"I didn't do anything!"

_"You started it, you jerk-"_

"Enough. Both of you," he ordered loudly, " _enough."_

Ed started to open his mouth again, his tiny body all but shaking with anger, but one more look from Roy was all it took for him to fall silent with a wordless, breathy huff. He folded his arms and sulked, glaring alternately at the ground and his fellow student, while Lingo just kept on grinning like an angel.

A wave of exasperation hit him, and for a moment, he really did want to swear aloud.

He did _not_ get paid enough for this.

"Five points from Slytherin," he began tiredly, giving Ling a _look._ "Five points from Ravenclaw." He gave it to Ed.

"Wh- _what?! Professor!_ He _started_ it, I-"

"I didn't start any-"

"Five more points from Slytherin; Mr. Yao, I am fully aware you started this." He cleared his throat, directing his rebuking stare between the both of them again, arms still folded, then sighed. "As for you, Mr. Elric, while your classmate did, ahem... 'start this', you chose to continue it. I've told you before; you can't threaten to assault your classmates, especially not if their only crime is to call you short."

"But-" he started, desperately fuming even hotter now, starting to step forward, "but he didn't just call me short, he called me a _baby-"_

"That's _enough,_ Mr. Elric... and please wipe that smirk off your face before I deduct even more house points from you for it, Mr. Yao." Roy frowned, rubbing his face as he glanced between the two first years before him, one sulking and angry, one still far too unreasonably proud of himself, then gave a quiet, long-suffering sigh.

If Al had an anxiety problem, then Ed _undeniably_ had an anger problem.

He was quiet, reserved, and withdrawn even in the face of insults, silent when he was teased as a nerd or a brown-noser, but the moment someone hit on one of his sensitive spots, he would turn into a screaming little hellcat that wouldn't stop until he'd gotten the provocateur to take back his words, or a professor broke it up.

Usually, it was comments about his height that set him off. Roy wasn't sure why... from what few words he'd managed to glean from Al, he was thinking it was because they reminded him of the older boys at the orphanage.

Comments about the fact that he seemed to have two fathers, yet no mother, usually infested with laughter and cruel smiles, did it too.

Roy did not have to wonder why _those_ comments set him off, and if he was the one to witness Ed's enraged, violent fit of retribution, he turned a blind eye, and said nothing.

But- but that was not this, he reminded himself forcefully, calmly retaking control of himself as he looked between the two boys, one still beaming, one not. Ed could not keep flipping out against the likes of Ling Yao's good-natured if misplaced teasing. It was tolerable for a first year, but if he kept this up he was going to end up a teenager throwing punches and hexes that would wind up with him being thrown out of school. And what was it Maes had said, that he should try and be friends with _Ling_ , of all people, that Roy should try and get the two to come to their Quidditch game? He almost wanted to laugh. Right, if he wanted to call the game short to take two boys to the hospital wing, maybe, but...

Roy paused again. He frowned, thinking harder as his gaze swept between the two of them.

He restrained a smile.

"Considering that house point deductions have failed to make the point thus far," he began steadily, "clearly, I'm going to need to take things a step further. Detention for the both of you." He paused for a moment, observing both Ling's face falling and the bloom of rage renew across Ed's, gauging both their reactions to see how far he could test this. "Let's see... I've got a Quidditch match this Saturday. Incidentally, last time I was down there I noticed the weeds down there have been getting pretty out of hand. How about you two meet me down there at noon and see what you can do about it, hmm?"

This time, the anger that swept through Ed was so vivid Roy could almost taste it- and certainly regret it, when it took not even a few seconds for that hot rage to morph, first into shock... and then, into betrayal.

"B-but-" he stammered again, the hot anger and snapped insults dying down, now, morphing into something smaller, and entirely too desperate to bear. "But, Mustang, that's- that's the _weekend._ That's... but..."

This time, Roy allowed the stern mask to soften just a little, offering him what he hoped was a small, comforting smile. He'd seen this coming. The weekend was the only time Ed could spend with his brother during the day, and it wasn't too surprising he'd react to that time being taken away like his favorite puppy had just been kicked. It did hurt a little bit to see that look on his face, but it _was_ going to hopefully wind up being for his own good...

Unable to help himself, Roy softened a little more, trying to reassure him. He couldn't do too much in public, not if he didn't want the teasing to get that much worse, but he could at least do this. "Don't worry. If you want, Alphonse can come with us. In fact..."

Struck with another idea, Roy glanced around them again, searching. Most of the students sitting there were openly watching and eavesdropping, some whispering amongst themselves, but there was just one who wasn't- one silent little Hufflepuff looking awfully out of place at the Slytherin table, head buried in a textbook as she tried very, very hard to escape notice. Roy smirked again. _Knew it._ "Lan-Fan Yao?"

The girl jumped, nearly spilling her glass of milk at the surprise of being called out, and Roy had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing again. "Miss Yao, would you mind accompanying your classmate to his new Saturday detention? You two _do_ seem to always be together, anyway, and I would appreciate the security in knowing he'll actually turn up... I get the feeling if I leave him to it he'll simply get lost on the way and leave poor Mr. Elric here picking weeds by himself."

The young Hufflepuff, exceedingly startled and put on the spot, just stared up at him for a moment, clearly not having expected this turn of events and now unsure of what to say. The only answer she did give him was a surprised nod, still wordless, dark eyes flickering between him and Ling, and Roy nodded back, satisfied.

"Thank you, then. Now, looking at the time... I believe we all have classes to get to. Finish up, you three."

"But-" Ed tried one last time, desperate, his face startling young and his eyes, betrayed like the child that he was supposed to be.

Roy steeled his heart, reaffirmed his grin, promised to see them all in class, and kept on walking.

It was for Ed's own good, he told himself, and he knew he would keep telling himself when Ed tried to complain to him and change his mind all night long. It was for Ed's own good, if he could just get the little spitfire to sit down for ten minutes of honest conversation with that cheerful prankster of a brat...

And maybe, just maybe, he thought, it'd be good for Al, too- Al, and the shyer, quieter first year that was Ling's very good friend Lan-Fan.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final update! Thank you all so much for the kudos/comments, and hopefully I'll see you next time!

Ed: pissed off.

Ling: sulky.

Al: silent.

Mustang and Hughes: beaming, cheerful, and irredeemably fucking proud of themselves.

A vein pulsed in Ed's forehead.

Yeah, he was really, _really, super-really_ pissed off.

It was Saturday, after a breakfast of sulky glares up at the teacher's table and a walk of unhappy huffs down to the Quidditch pitch. A brisk, fall Saturday morning, Ed standing side-by-side with his brother bundled into every spare bit of warm clothing that Ed could find, and _the bastard professor_ standing across from them, seeming so criminally proud of himself that he wanted to fucking punch him.

He'd tried to persuade him not to do this. First that Ling had started the _whole damn thing,_ because Ed had been sitting there minding his own business until the asshole had spoken up, so why should he be punished just for defending himself? Then, at Mustang's smug reminder that the fact that he'd had a one-sided screaming match in the Great Hall was not a defense, Ed had tried begging him to do anything other than this. It wasn't fair to Al! The weekends were the one time when they could actually be together; he had to be with Al after a week full of classes to make sure he was all right, he thought the bastard professor understood that-

But, apparently, he did not, because here Ed still was. Glaring daggers, tapping his foot, and sulking his way into oblivion.

Hughes, just as sunnily inexorably cheerful as Mustang, or perhaps even more so, looked down at him with bright smile that made Ed's hackles rise. "Careful, Ed. Keep looking like that and your face'll freeze that way."

"Yeah?" Ed muttered, not even bothering to drag his glare away from Mustang. "Well, I'm sure magic can fix it."

Hughes raised his hands in peaceful surrender, even while he remained the only one to continue smiling. With nothing more than that, though, the bastard professor cleared his throat and stepped forward, still looking between them with that annoying, smarmy grin. "Now that we've all arrived- Hughes, if you don't mind setting up while I straighten things out down here?"

Their charms professor, again, acquiesced with little more than a smile. Somehow, every time one of the two adults looked like that, Ed found himself sulking a little more.

"Now, then," Mustang said, clasping his hands together as Hughes headed off. He surveyed over the three of them with a calm, implacable stare, then softened right back into another damn _smile_ that made Ed want to growl. Or yell at him. Or curse him. Or all three. "Our game usually lasts for about two hours... in fact, today might even be a little shorter. I think it's fair to ask for you two to work away down here until it ends? Ah-" He stopped for a moment, smiling a little again. "Well, actually, it's fair for me to ask _Edward_ to work for that long. Ling, considering you _did_ instigate this, I think it's only right that I ask you to to stay out here an hour longer."

Ed blinked in surprise, his stubborn sulk chased away just a little bit like a shadow, to warm into something closer to fondness. He found himself torn between continuing to glare at Mustang and sticking his tongue out at the jerk next to him, instead. Huh. So the bastard wasn't _totally_ a lost cause, yet, then...

Mustang cleared his throat again when no protests came, still with that slight smirk.. He pointed with his wand towards the edge of the pitch where Hughes had already headed off to, telling them that was where they'd find gloves, then turned back towards his brother. "And, while these two troublemakers are busy down here, Alphonse? Lan-Fan? Let me take you up to the stands. I can show you where you can wait without being bothered until we finish up here today." He held out a hand towards his Al, waiting, innocuous, smiling.

Ed's angry sulk, already out and deployed in full force, finally wavered. Like an angry flame threatened by a gust of wind, it shrunk, quietly smothered away by the worry, and, unbidden, his gaze turned towards his brother again.

He didn't look scared.

In fact, Ed thought he might have preferred it he _had._

Because he didn't look at him like he was sad or scared or wanted help or needed to be saved. He looked at Ed and he smiled, bright and hopeful, just like the professors, he nodded his head vigorously, clearly trying so damn _hard_ to be okay that Ed's heart almost broke. "I'll be fine, Brother!" he promised, las lighthearted as could be, but his eyes- his eyes _weren't,_ Ed could see the trepidation and nervous uncertainty and _fear_ flickering in them clear as day, and his stomach clenched with a wave of misery so potent he nearly moaned aloud.

Stupid bastard professor. _Stupid bastard professor!_

Ignoring jerk Ling and bastard Mustang completely, Ed strode forward and pulled his brother into the tightest hug that he could. "It'll be over quick, I promise," he struggled out, voice thick but little more than a whisper, because this _wasn't_ anybody else's fucking business. "I'll just do stupid Mustang's stupid weeding and then when he's done goofing off we can go back and it'll be just us and it'll be fine. It'll be over really quick and- a-and if you get scared and want to go back-"

"I'll be _fine,_ Brother," Al promised him back. His voice was too steady for Ed to believe and the gentle squeeze of a hug was too sure, but when he pulled back he was smiling, again, smiling in a way that Ed couldn't bear. He knew everything about it was a perfect, uncrackable mask, a mask made just for him, because Al was so damn strong and cared about him way too much, but the mask was still there and he found himself helpless to do anything but watch as Mustang reached down to take Al's little hand, gesture to Lan-Fan, then just walked away.

Al didn't look back at him, and somehow, that made him glare even harder at the bastard's retreating back than he had before.

* * *

This day, Ed did not take long to determine, was the worst of the year yet.

Despite it being fall, the sun beat down mercilessly from the wide open skies of the Quidditch pitch, obscured only by the occasionally flitting forms of Mustang, Hughes, and their friends. Ed wasn't really sure what the hell they were doing up there to begin with. Yeah, he didn't know too much about Quidditch, but he was _pretty sure_ it wasn't supposed to entail colorful jets of light bolting around the field, hexes and jinxes fired off at each as they rocketed around, or the explosions of smoke and shockwaves that occasionally boomed, flourishing over the sky like clouds-

But, well, there they were.

Maniacs.

Maniacs up above them, while Ed was still stuck fucking down here, with _stupid Ling,_ getting sunburnt, and pulling up _weeds._

He was pretty sure Mustang had spelled whatever weeds there'd already been here to multiply and grow and overrun the stupid patch in the past few days. There was just no other explanation for how _many_ of them there were. How entrenched they were even in the parts covered by sand. Why they even existed at all, when this place was run by wizards and magic and they could just blow the stupid things up with a snap of their fingers if they wanted to- but nope! Here they all were, an ugly and thick nest that seemed to thrive on spite alone.

Ed glared down at the sands. He seethed.

Spite for him, and spite for stupid Ling.

And speaking of spite...

Ed glared even harder down at the stupid weed that was his current battle. He might've set it on fire by now, if Mustang hadn't already shouted back down that for every use of magic, he'd keep them both out here another hour. Stupid thing was stuck in so deep he couldn't get a grip on it- if he could just-

"Damn it," he muttered to himself, shoving the ugly waste of space back into the sand. He sat back with a huff, shaking his right hand out to try and work the bulky glove off his magical limb. Maybe without it he'd have better luck, because it certainly wasn't fucking helping.

Bulky, ugly glove stolen straight from herbology class finally worn off, Ed set off back to work, snarling at the stupid thing and yanking at it as hard as he could. He'd been right, it _was_ a little easier this way... _almost there..._

_"Woah."_

Ed stiffened. He held himself now perfectly frozen, glaring downwards at the obtrusive interruption, still eyes only for the sands and the stupid, thorny weed, and waited for more.

But Ling didn't say anything else. Just that one little surprised comment of disbelief- even though he could just _feel_ his stupid eyes still watching him... but- no. Ed angrily shook his his head to himself and shook it all right off, every last little bit of annoyance that felt like it was clinging to him like wet clay, gritted his teeth, kept on weeding.

Except, for some reason, Ling took that as invitation to continue.

"Is your hand _magic?"_ The Slytherin asked, crawling a little closer. "I've heard of stuff like that before, but never seen it! Is- is that it? Is your hand magic?"

Ed didn't bother even raising his eyes off the stupid weed this time to acknowledge him. He could not help, however, glancing at his hand. His hand that looked _almost_ human but not quite, the painted, enchanted wood too smooth and glossy to be skin, his sleeve hiding where it was carefully fitted in to his shoulder.

Stupid Ling.

"Yeah," he grunted sulkily, and continued to work. "It's magic."

This apparently was not enough to dissuade Ling, though, because he then took the opportunity to crawl even closer, craning his head over and even reaching out a little with one gloved hand before dropping it back down to the sand. "Wow, that looks... I didn't know you had that! I thought you just wore that glove because- I don't know, you were just copying Mustang or something! Wait, wait, does _Mustang_ have one, too? Is that why he's always wearing a glove?"

"I-" Ed stopped, head raising in spite of himself with a startled blink. For just a moment, his stubborn, hard-fought irritation was swiped aside as he glanced up ahead, watching the tiny figures flit around the bright and sunny sky.

He'd never even thought of that before. How had he never even thought of that?

"...no," he muttered at last, squeezing his hand into a fist. "I mean. I don't know. He's never told us." He ducked his head even lower, wanting to crawl somehow into the sand and just disappear. The parallel of it had just never hit him before... how both he and Mustang wore gloves on their right hands. Now that he thought about it, he'd never even seen the professor take it off- he really could be hiding a magical limb under there, just like Ed was-

No, _no._ Ed shook his head vigorously, trying to clear his mind. Whatever Mustang was hiding, it wasn't any of Ling's business. He hunkered back down, again almost desperately tearing at the _stupid stupid stupid_ weed that was fighting him with everything it had. Stupid-

"Can I see it?"

"You- _no!"_ Ed jerked away, glaring away and even raising a hand in defensive, the anger before flooding right back through him with a vengeance. What was _wrong_ with him?

But Ling was neither deterred not enticed by the rebuke, still just sitting there cross-legged, his own mess of weeds entirely abandoned by now for him to just look at him with that annoyingly innocent, inquisitive smile. "What happened?" he pressed on, leaning forwards again, and Ed nearly fucking snapped right then and there.

_Nope. Come on, Ed. Nope. Deep breaths. Come on. If you lose it you'll be stuck out here for even longer and Al'll be stuck right out here, too. Come on, Ed, don't yell at him... don't yell at him no matter how much his fat stupid face deserves it..._

"None of your business," he finally muttered. His throat felt newly thick and the words stuck there, prickly and painful to crawl out, but he forced them out anyway, a vicious anger thrumming just underneath the surface so close to bubbling over that his hands shook and his heart raced. "Just... just leave me alone."

There was an awkward pause.

It had taken effort to reign in his angry yell into that glacially cold mutter, a huge measure of effort and even huger to not snap and start yelling after it anyway. But, in the slight, weak little flinch the rebuke _finally_ got from Ling, those words seeming to have gotten through to him at last to just _shut up,_ Ed knew it had been worth it.

So he just settled himself more firmly back down in the sand, scowling to himself, and funneled every bit of restrained irritation and anger and misery at the stupid world into that one damn weed.

Just another hour and a half more.

There was an awkward moment of silence. Ling sat quietly still across from him, seeming to have finally gotten the message oh _fuck off_ at last, and the infectiously positive aura about him slowly dimmed into an atmosphere of discomfort and silence.

Ed kept picking away at the weed in the sand, glaring downwards, and refused to let himself feel sorry.

"...I, uh... guess that was all kinda personal." Ling scratched at his head for a moment, and right out of the corner of his eye, Ed just barely glimpse a nervous smile. "Sorry?"

Ed continued to glare at the ground.

...so it wasn't as bad as before. Ling had actually apologized instead of calling him short or a baby. Maybe he wasn't the biggest jerk in the school after all.

There was another awkward pause. Ed kept on picking at the ground, and Ling, across from him, fidgeted.

Then, with a weary sigh, his classmate raised a hand up in the universal gesture for defeat, swiveled around, and began to crawl away back over to his side.

"...It was a car accident."

Ling started in surprise. He turned back around, just a little, but somehow Ed found he could only manage to meet his eyes for barely a second before they were abruptly glued back down on the ground again, staring at his own fingers fidgeting rather than face the reaction.

The uncertainty dragged on in silence, Ling just watching him, not making any move to crawl back over but not trying to crawl away anymore, either. Slowly, he settled back into sitting down in the sand, and a moment later began picking at a patch of weeds before him, abandoning the half-picked growth he'd been working at before. "What's that?"

"A car acci- oh. It's, um... it's how Muggles get around, without apparition and broomsticks and everything else. You know? Vroom, vroom?" Ed mimicked turning the wheel of a car a little, trying for a smile. When Ling continued to stare at him like he was describing an alien, though, he just sighed, shaking his head as he dropped his hands and his gaze back down. "I guess most wizards have never been in one before, have they?"

Ling shook his head sheepishly, returning his focus back down as well. "Nah... I've been riding a broomstick since I was little. I don't know- sounds a lot more fun than the, the, um- the _vroom vroom."_

This time, Ed couldn't help but roll his eyes a little, ducking his head behind his knee to hide the stubborn start of a grin. "Car. It's called a car."

"Car," Ling corrected himself, this time with that same, cheeky little smile than before. He worked one weed out and tossed it over his shoulder, then scooched over a little, closer to Ed's patch, to continue on. "But does that mean you're Muggle-born, then? If you had a car instead of a broomstick?"

"Um... maybe. We don't-"

Realization bowled into him like a punch to the face, and his words cut off in his throat like they'd been strangled to death. He bit his tongue hard, silent and hit with a wave of cold, and he curled a little back around himself, glaring right back to the sands.

"...never mind."

Ling fidgeted again; this time, Ed could just _feel_ the awkward stare landing on him again. _Well, too bad for him,_ he thought savagely, stabbing into another ugly patch of weeds Because he wasn't answering.

"Hey, um... I didn't mean- sorry, I didn't realize how that sounded... I really was only curious, you know?"

"...huh?"

Ling shrugged again, the look on his face almost abashed as he lowered his own head, sticking his hands back into the sand. "I know- I know I'm a Slytherin, and pureblood, and everything, but I- I didn't mean anything by it. I know that I can be... a little mean sometimes, but- not like _that._ I swear! I know blood status is a pretty big deal to a lot of people around here, but... if you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly _from_ here." He tried for a laugh, but it came out short and uncomfortable, and died quicker than his attempt at an easygoing smile. "I really was just asking..."

There was another uncomfortable moment of silence. Ed suddenly found his face burning and sunk a little more into himself, his angry swipes at the stupid, stubborn, mutant behemoth of a weed falling limp.

Above them was another sound of a distant explosion, and the even more distant sound of Mustang and Hughes laughing.

Until, at last, Ling sagged down across from him, running a dirty hand through his hair and giving him a huge, cheesy, beaming grin. "I'm sorry, really. Can we just start again? Hi, Ling Yao! Nice to meet you!" He stuck out his hand with bright eyes and beamed on even more, straightening up as if in an effort to banish every last cloud of discomfort and miserable awkwardness that had choked over this whole damn detention. "Now, do you think you could use some help with that?" he asked cheerfully, nodding down to the angry, evil weed before him, hand still outstretched. "Because you've been pulling at it for like ten minutes and I think if you pull any harder you'll end up popping your arm out."

Ed hesitated again. He bit his lip.

He glanced up to Ling's waiting, outstretched hand- and his bold, welcoming smile.

* * *

Al was... uncertain.

That was the best word he could use to interpret the conflicting mess of everything that he felt right now, he thought.

Uncertain.

He hadn't wanted to do this. He hadn't wanted to do it since the very moment Mustang had floated the idea of him coming down to wait through his brother's detention so they could get lunch together afterwards. He hadn't wanted to go down to the Quidditch pitch, he hadn't wanted to eat lunch in the Great Hall, he hadn't wanted to be left alone with just one of his brother's textbooks, and he _certainly_ hadn't wanted to be left alone with his brother's textbook and a _stranger._

But Mustang and Hughes had tried so hard to convince him to come... and then Ed had looked at him and looked so _sad_ and _sorry..._

He could be strong for Ed. He may not have wanted any part of this, but he could put on a brave face for his brother, and stop him from feeling guilty for having to leave him alone.

Everything else was out of his control, so he'd do what he could for what little he could control, and be strong for his brother.

But... then nothing else had gone as expected.

He'd let Mustang lead him up, hand in his, higher into the stands, bringing him far away from the group of older kids gathered on the other side of the pitch watching the game. Mustang had told them neither was obligated to stay, though his eyes had been lingering on Lan-Fan, then pointed towards what he'd told them was a quick, safe exit, and with that, his eyes had been lingering on him, and the steady, confident smile he'd been watching them with all day had faded into a somber and quietly worried frown.

He'd been pulled in for a tight, reassuring hug, and then, with another warm, even more reassuring squeeze on his shoulder, Mustang had promised to be back to check on them soon- then kicked off on his broomstick with a rush of air that had left them both windswept and staggering.

Lan-Fan had looked at him.

Al had looked at her.

Then, without a word, she had sat down on the nearest bench, opened her own book, and started reading.

And... now, here they still were.

Lan-Fan sitting quietly a little way's away from them, working on her homework, and Al left completely undisturbed.

He didn't know what to make of it.

He'd come up here with anxiety tying his stomach all into knots all day and his hands clammy and shaking and his heart just _pounding,_ hammering desperately away to make him want to run all the way back to Mustang's office and hide under his blankets and hug his brother's coat until everything went away-

And Lan-Fan just sat there the whole time, quietly reading her book and working on an essay.

Al closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in a long, stuttery sort of meant to be calming breath. He could feel his heart still hammering frantically away and pressed himself a little more into his nice, safe corner.

He clutched his book back closer to himself, clammy fingers curling around the pages, pulled in another desperate sort of breath, and tried to read.

Well. He stared at the pages.

So far, he hadn't made too much progress on the reading front.

But... it was still okay.

 _He_ was okay.

The minutes ticked by. He was sitting just close enough to the edge to lean forwards and see Ed and Ling busy working in field below while Mustang, Hughes, and a few others bolted around above. Lan-Fan remained silent beside him save for the every-so-often rustle of her book's pages and scratches of her quill, and slowly, as the the time slid by and all there was to breach it was the faint sounds of a Quidditch game and the reassuring, steady sight of his brother nearby- he found himself anchored.

He could do this.

He could do this.

Mustang had believed in him, and Hughes had smiled at him, and Ed _needed_ him to. He could not keep dragging his brother down. Not anymore. They weren't at the orphanage anymore, they were at Hogwarts and he had everything he could've wanted and he _could not_ keep being an anchor to tie Ed back down.

He _had_ to-

"Excuse me?"

Al jumped, and pressed himself back against his corner.

Lan-Fan was looking at him.

"Do you know when Professor Mustang's paper is due?" She fidgeted uncertainly, one hand reaching up to twist in her short-cropped hair. "I... didn't realize it was going to be this hard."

Al stayed frozen. His mouth, suddenly bone dry, opened, but nothing came out.

Lan-Fan shifted again. "The paper," she repeated, lifting up her parchment just a little. "On Living Dead?"

He opened his mouth again. This time, all that came out was a hoarse sort of croak, and the look on Lan-Fan's face then made him feel about two inches tall.

_Don't do this don't let Professor Mustang and Professor Hughes and Ed down come on just hold it together for a few hours don't freak out don't freak out_

"...Are you, um... all r-"

"I d-don't know," he stammered, or perhaps it was a hoarse gasp; he didn't know, couldn't quite hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears. "The, um. The paper. When it's due. I don't know."

Lan-Fan blinked uncertainly at him, seeming even more disturbed than before.

Al took a deep breath, fighting to steady himself, because this was just a simple, normal, totally safe _conversation,_ and tried again. "I don't know when the paper is due," he said, slower this time, trying to enunciate or at least not rush everything out so fast she couldn't understand him. "I'm, u-um, not a student. I don't have classes."

She blinked again. This time, at least, no longer staring at him like he was some sort of zoo animal, but still seeming to be any less lost than she was already.

_Come on, Al, come on, Al, come on, Al..._

Finally unable to take it anymore, Al caved to breaking their shared gaze, jerking his gaze back down to his book instead to clutch desperately at the worn pages, stuttery, shallow breaths gathering in his chest again as he fought to anchor himself in its familiar words. He still felt like a wreck. He felt nervous and shaky and scared. He felt like he didn't belong and none of this was safe and he'd failed after all and couldn't be anything more than a weak recluse hiding in Mustang's office.

And he still, no matter what, couldn't let his brother down.

Several more long, shuddering breaths later, an attempt at a bandaid for his racing, erratic heart, he steadied himself just as much as he could, and gave it another try.

"I..." He coughed, swallowing hard. Even to his own ears his voice was little more than a tiny, vanishing whisper. "I know that my brother's is due on Tuesday."

There was another short pause.

Then, Lan-Fan said simply, "Oh." And: "I'm in your brother's class. So mine's due on Tuesday, too."

Then, after a brief breath of quiet, she lowered her head back down and continued working.

This time, the quiet was almost stifling.

Al breathing in shakily again, gripping his book tighter. His heart still hammering away, he shifted a little closer to the edge, this time to squint through the beaming sunlight to where he could just make out Ed's small form, working away down below.

He... he didn't want this to stop. He could keep going, couldn't he? He'd done well so far... he'd talked to someone that wasn't his brother or Mustang or Hughes and the world had not exploded. Just a brief conversation with one stranger- he could do better than that, couldn't he? He could keep going.

He took in another deep inhale, filling his lungs in the autumn air and anchoring himself again among the bright, beaming sunlight, his brother down below, and Mustang up above.

"Ed's already finished his paper," he said.

Even with his gaze still focused back firmly down on his knees, he felt Lan-Fan's gaze find him again with those words. It took him several moments to actually hear what he'd said himself, then fumble over the words in his head, and- oh. No. He sounded like he was bragging, calling her stupid, gloating about his brother already being done when she'd just said it was hard... "W-wait, I-" he rushed, shaking his head- _no, no, stupid, Al-_ "I mean, I worked with him, and, and we already finished. So. If you, um... if you're stuck on something, I can try to help." He fidgeted again, face burning now, and he abruptly found himself wishing again to just dwindle back into his corner and disappear for good. "O-or, Mustang's still up there... he'd probably do much better than me..."

No, he chastised himself miserably, shaking his head. No, _no._ What was he thinking? Of _course_ she'd rather have Mustang. She'd probably rather have anybody on the field help her before him. He'd just told her he didn't have classes like her; why should he be able to help? No, he shouldn't have said anything... he should've just kept quiet and taken what little good he'd managed today and been satisfied with it, he shouldn't have opened his mouth, it was _stupid,_ he- he shouldn't have-

"Oh," she said, quietly, just like before. While Al fidgeted and his face burned and his heart hammered, she simply sat there silently, watching him with dark, expressive eyes, shifting around a little in a way that made Al think her very existence was quiet. "Actually, I did have a question. Could you... could you explain to me what vampires are?"

Al, midway through his mandatory weekly existential crisis, hating himself for every speaking up at all, and wanting absolutely nothing more than to just go back to his room and hide for the rest of the month- stopped.

"...Vampires?"

To this, however, Lan-Fan seemed to wilt a little, like a flower in the shade, shoulders hunching over just a little as she dropped her eyes, tracing a light pattern over her paper. "Yes. I- Professor Mustang talked about them in class, but he never really said just _what_ they were. It seemed like everyone else just... already knew. So I didn't want to ask."

Al hesitated as well, still sitting awkwardly and perfectly quiet in his corner, now not sure how to respond. Who had never heard of vampires before?

At the look on his face, though, Lan-Fan seemed to sink a little more into herself, gaze scattering away. "I'm not from here," she said, even quieter than before, arms wrapping around herself loosely, essay abandoned in her lap as she seemed to just huddle away. "And I don't think we have vampires in China."

"C- _China?"_

She nodded shortly, dark eyes still lingering down on her book. "China."

Al stared at her again, now finding himself fumbling for what to say. She'd looked Asian, but he hadn't actually realized she was _from_ China. She sounded as if she was from London. He bit his lip again, unsure how to ask the question, or if he even _should;_ he cringed just to hear the words _but you don't sound Chinese_ in his head- but before he could just make an attempt at getting the words out her face had fallen even more.

"It's a country out east," she said quietly, not looking at him. "Really far from here. _Bà-bà_  s-... Father says we have to take the Floo whenever we travel because it's too far to apparate."

She shifted uncomfortably again. Her hand returned to her small bun, fingers curling slightly against her hair as she looked down even more, seeming even more withdrawn and unhappy than before.

She looked lonely, he realized. That was what it was. She looked lonely.

Lonely, and homesick.

He understood the feeling.

Al hesitated again, still warm and secure in his corner but now wanting to at least say _something_. He dithered for a few moments, breaths still unsteady and shallow in his ears, then at last worked up the nerve to push himself just a little bit closer, clutching his book and lingering against the wall but at least no longer hiding quite so far away. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, trying to smile for her. "I didn't... I know what China is. I was just surprised you were from there."

"You... you do?"

Al paused again, a little thrown by the look on her face. "...Yes?" Once again, he was struck by the incongruity of it, because who _didn't_ know what China was- but again, that just felt mean to say aloud...

But Lan-Fan softened a little at that, finally looking up at him again, this time with the faintest of smiles. "A lot of wizards don't," was all she said- but that was still all she had to say, for him to understand.

He may've only been in the wizarding world for a few months, now, and his direct contact was still only Mustang- but even he had seen enough to recognize just how true her words were. "No," he said weakly back, shaking his head, "no, they don't. They really, _really_ don't."

This time, he managed to get a very small smile out of her, and with it, Al, too, at last felt himself beginning to relax.

"Brother and I were raised by Muggles, though," he went on, tentatively testing the waters with another attempt at a smile himself. "We're not _quite_ so clueless as everybody else around here."

"Oh?" Lan-Fan tilted her head a little, observing him with those same unfathomable eyes, just long enough that she started to make him uncomfortable- but then, her small smile was back, and she nodded satisfactorily. "I always thought something seemed a little strange about your brother. Oh, I don't mean- not in a _bad_ way," she hastened to say, "just... different. Sort of like me and Ling... like he's not from the same sort of world as everybody else."

Al glanced away himself, again turning his gaze back down to the far-away figure of his brother down on the field. No, he considered, remembering Izumi, their time at the orphanage... everything before it. No.

Neither of them really had any sort of normal childhood.

He hesitated again. His gaze lingered on down at the two students in the grass,one that he just _knew_ was Ed, and the other, the one that he knew had teased and followed him around on a daily basis.

He clenched his jaw, just a little, and now found himself tasting something almost bitter.

"...Um... Lan-Fan, right?" He waited for her to nod a little before continuing, dropping his eyes back down to his brother once more. "Can I ask you a question?"

She made a small, soft noise of agreement behind him, and Al, swallowing hard and breathing through the fluttering nerves in his stomach, forged on.

"Why is your brother so mean to mine?"

Lan-Fan went very, very still.

"Ed complains about him all the time," Al fumbled on, something hard and painful catching in his throat. "He says Ling is always bothering him, and I _know_ he's not lying, because Brother won't be mean to anyone unless they're mean to him first. He just wants to be left alone, but he says Ling won't stop calling him a baby just because he's short. He's- he's _not_ a baby. He hates that. He doesn't like it when people call him that."

It made him so _angry,_ Al remembered, his stomach twisting. The older kids at the orphanage had made fun of him for it every day- mussing his hair and patting his head like he was a two year old even as Ed did all their homework for them, smirking over his head, sometimes picking him up to pass him around like a football. He knew people here only teased him about it because they'd realized he'd react so explosively every single time and they found it _funny-_ but it wasn't funny. They were all laughing but Ed _wasn't._ Ed hated it. Ed only barely liked it when Mustang did it and that was because Mustang knew when to stop, because Mustang teased _everyone_ and Ed didn't want to be the exception, while the people like Ling would single him out and just keep going until he was so mad he was ready to scream.

Al hated it. His throat went tight just to think of it and his hands clenched and his stomach knotted and a miserable, thrumming rage shivered down his spine he just- he just-

He _hated it._

 _"_ He's... actually not my brother."

Al flinched.

His face suddenly felt warm again, and he found himself unable to pick between looking back at Lan-Fan, polite and appropriately curious and listening, and staring back down at his knees to want to hide all over again.

But Lan-Fan, this time, was not looking at him. Lan-Fan now was moving closer to the railing, same as he was, leaning forward just enough so she could see over it all the way to the ground where Ed and Ling were still working. A slow, wistful sort of smile crossed her face, just barely enough for Al to see it.

"He's not my brother," she said again, folding her arms along the railing to rest her head on them. "We share the same last name, but that's just a tradition... we're both from the same wizarding bloodline and they wanted to keep our names all the same, to reflect that, but really Ling and I are so distant I'm not even sure how we're related. I think we share the same great-great-grandfather... " She trailed off with a distant shrug, shaking her head as if it didn't matter. "I'm not sure. I guess I did grow up with him, though? A little. Ling's lived in London his whole life, but I've only ever visited. My parents always wanted for me to go to Hogwarts so they wanted me to get used to it, over here..." She paused again, glancing towards Al with that silently unreadable, speculative look back in her eyes. As if she was evaluating him for something- judging if he were trustworthy enough to to listen to her story.

Al breathed in shakily again, doing his very best to smile as reassuringly as he knew how, and waited.

"He... doesn't mean to be like that. Mean." She ducked her head a little, dark eyes drifting back over to the field. "I think I was the only person our age he knew before going to Hogwarts. He had his parents, and servants, and aunts and uncles, but... I was the only other kid he ever actually got to talk to. He teases people because he thinks they'll find it as funny as he does, because he's never actually had anyone do it to him. He's... still learning that that's not always the case, I think." She hesitated a little, that oddly wistful smile growing as she leaned her head a little more against her elbow, cushioning herself against it like it was a pillow as she settled in for what was evidently the long haul. "I know it may not seem like it. But, from what he tells me, he actually does like your brother. He... calls him his friend."

"...Oh."

Lan-Fan nodded a little herself, still focused quietly down to the Quidditch pitch with a slight, warm smile on her face. "Oh," she repeated softly back, and continued to look on down to her friend, and his brother.

Al, after one long moment of thick uncertainty, silenced his nerves as best he could, and joined her.

 _This isn't so bad,_ he thought, settling in as comfortably as he could and allowing himself one steady, warm smile. _This isn't so bad at all._

* * *

"Hughes?"

Maes, from his prone position stretched out along a bench, taking a desperately needed break with his broom in the crook of one arm, the other tossed weakly across his face, grunted. "Yeah?"

"About Ed and Al?"

"Yeah?"

Roy paused slightly again. His gaze swept back over the field, from Ed and Ling, talking quietly together down in the grass below, then over to Al and Lan-Fan, who had put their books away at last to join each other at the railing.

A small, self-satisfied sort of smile slipped confidently right into place.

"You were right," he said, and held out his hand to give him a high-five.

 


End file.
